


Bad Ideas

by eating_custardinbed



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 15:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eating_custardinbed/pseuds/eating_custardinbed
Summary: McPriceley fic, set after the whole book up the ass thing. Potentially triggering, but I wasn't sure if it would warrant the rape/non-con warning.





	Bad Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> This is triggering, guys, so if you're not comfortable just get out now. No smut or actual in-depth description of what happens, but... y'know. Anyway, enjoy whatever hellish angst fest this is. Also, sorry if there's any typos, I did do a quick proof-read but my phone is messed up

It was a stupid idea, really. Kevin realised that now as he was lying curled up in a ball in the far corner of one of the General's cells, but it was a little late, wasn't it? Pain ripped through him, all the way from his head to the sight of... penetration. God, even the mere thought made him shudder. Why? Why him? And anyway, who even shoved sacred holy books up people's asses anymore? So unoriginal. 

Who was he trying to kid? If he hadn't been in so much pain, he probably would've given it to General BFN for his new, out-of-the-box, unorthodox method. But whatever. Instead, he was lying in a makeshift prison, feeling extremely violated and wishing he'd never gone to the fucking bus station- or Uganda, for that matter- in the first place.

Trying to convert a war lord! He almost barked with laughter at the idiocy of the idea. He would've laughed if laughing didn't aggravate his severely bruised and quite possibly broken ribs. Sighing, he wished the room would stop spinning for two seconds so he could get his thoughts straight. 

Straight. Hah! Not like he was. Yep. He, Kevin James Michael Price, was gayer than a pride flag cake topper on a rainbow cake at a lesbian wedding which took place on a float at a Pride Parade in June. He loathed himself for it, having been taught his entire life that gays were heretics who were going to rot in Mormon hell, but dayn-um, Elder McKinley had a good ass. 

Oh my (who cares about the blasphemy anymore, that went out the window about three rule-breakings ago) God. How could he have a humongous gay crush on his  _District Leader_?? He would have thought about it further if it hadn't been for the sharp, squeal-inducing pain from his backside. Hell, he could feel the book shifting about in his body, scraping against... well, not important. His pants and underwear were saturated with blood, and he wondered if some of his wooziness was from blood loss and not the hell of a concussion he had probably sustained from the beatings before, during and even after they bent him over that cold metal table to- well, y'know. 

Despite the situation he was trapped in fully warranting a good cry, Kevin found himself unconsciously sniffing back tears. Regardless of the fact that he was stripped down to his very core, hating the world and feeling very much like wanting to punch God in his stupid  _all-knowing_ face, the damn Mormon conditioning was still active. Now instead of tears of despair, he found himself blinking away tears of fury. How dare they shove a book up his ass! How dare he not be able to properly cry when he really, really,  _really_ wanted to! How dare God abandon him! He was about to scream a deep, harrowing, haunting scream when the door began to creak. 

Out of instinct, he scuttled against the wall until he got to the darkest, farthest corner of the room. There he crouched, in agony and terrified, holding his breath as the door opened fully, light spilling onto the dank, straw-covered floor to reveal the silhouette of a beefy man. He wasn't particularly tall, no taller than Kevin if he was standing upright, but he was still menacing. He recognised the man immediately as the guard who had held down his left arm as the General violated him with his own book- that was quite humiliating, now he came to think of it. 

"Heavenly Father, why do you let bad things happen?" Kevin murmured. 

"Heavenly Father ain't here for you now, white boy," the man snarled. He was the same man who had announced Kevin's presence to the General in the first place. The man came forward and roughly grabbed Kevin's arm, dragging him up the stairs and out of the room. Kevin was glad to see the back of it. 

The Mormon boy's vision popped as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Blinking and squinting, he realised that he was doubled over, sufficiently smaller than the man who was leaving bruises in the shape of finger marks on his arm. 

"Where are we going?" he asked stupidly. His jaw hurt from where he'd been punched in the face a few too many times. 

"Shut up and you'll find  _out_ ," the man growled, giving Kevin's arm a hard tug as they approached a black Jeep. The man let go of his prisoner, ignoring him when his knees gave way and he crumpled to the dusty floor, instead turning and opening the boot of the car. The man stood, hands on hips, staring down at Kevin as the Elder groaned and tried to pick himself up off the ground to no avail. 

"In. Now," the guard commanded, pointing a finger to the back of the Jeep as if to reiterate the very simple thing he'd just said. Not wanting to anger the man any further, Kevin gathered up all his strength and managed to get to his knees before slumping. The man sighed and grabbed Kevin by the scruff of the neck, flinging him in the back of the cab and slamming the door shut. The boot- which had been extended to include the backseats- was plunged into blackness. 

Kevin hadn't realised it from the outside, but considering the fact that the bright Ugandan sunlight was burning outside, the windows were obviously taped up so no light could get in, or indeed, no-one could get out. Then the thought- was he being taken somewhere out in the desert to die? 

Instantly he began to panic, his breathing becoming harsh and short. This time, the Mormon training failed him and hot tears dripped down his dirt-streaked face, sobbing sounds escaping his mouth. That was, until someone banged on the side of the Jeep with something that sounded suspiciously metallic and he fell instantly silent. 

The jeep only moved slowly, turning casuall7 down the dusty desert roads, but to Kevin it felt as if they were going at 100 miles an hour. He clutched onto either side of the truck, ignoring the pain in his ribs and his head and his stomach and his was in the hopes of actually retaining some dignity in what he assumed were to be his final moments. Squeezing out a few tears, he closed his eyes and whispered one final thing, his head tilted towards the sky: 

"Hasa diga Eebowai." 

888888

It wasn't long until the car shuddered to a stop. The engine cut off, and there was a quick, hushed conversation in Swahili between the two men in the front of the car before a door was slammed and the boot was wrenched open. 

Kevin was huddled against the back wall of the Jeep, murmuring nonsense under his breath as his swollen, glazed eyes swivelled around the confined area. His eyes hit the guard, who was standing with his regular gun held across his chest, and he let out a high-pitched scream, trying to scramble even further backwards. The guard rolled his eyes reaching foward and grabbing Kevin before the boy could run away. He pulled the Elder to the side of the road, and Kevin could see that they were on the outskirts of the village: he could see the Elders' hut all the way from here. The man threw Kevin down, and the young man hit the ground with a hard thud. 

"This is what happens when you disobey the General!" he screamed before stalking back to the Jeep and speeding off before anyone could catch a glimpse of his face. 

The first person to reach the collapsed figure on ground was Kimbay. She knelt down next to the young Elder, trying to help him up, but whenever he hands got closer than an inch or so to him, he would hiss and spit like a cobra. 

"What happened?" she instead opted to ask. 

"None of your business," he spat, but his menacing tone was ruined when he tried to sit up and a bolt of searing pain shot through him. "Oh sweet Jesus, just shoot me now!" 

Kimbay instinctively knew something was wrong. Sure, the fact that Elder Price was doubled over, sobbing and writhing in pain was definitely a telling sign, but she was  _sure_ there was more to it than mere physical injuries. Gotswana and Nabalungi, thankfully without Elder Cunningham for once, were now approaching, looking incredibly worried. Kimbay waved them over. 

"What happened to him?" Nabalungi gasped, kneeling next to Kimbay. "We heard the shout." 

"Everyone heard the shout," Gotswana added. 

"He won't tell me," Kimbay replied, glancing down anxiously at Elder Price. "Or even let me touch him." 

Gotswana perked up at that, looking at Kimbay from where he was crouched by the boy's head. Elder Price's leaky eyes followed them sadly, but he made no attempt to move except to tighten his grip around his hips. 

"No talking, you say?" Gotswana said with a tint of morbid interest to his voice; a look from Naba stopped that. "Naba, go and get Elder McKinley from the village." 

Nabalungi nodded and ran off. 

"No, no, no no no no no, no," Kevin said frantically, trying to sit up before being struck down by more pain, the grip on the arm hugged around the fleshy part of his waist ever-tightening. "No, you can  _not_ bring Con- I mean Elder McKinley into this! I'm fine, I can deal with it on my own." 

"Elder Price, you cannot stand or even sit up," Gotswana retorted. "Maybe it's time you let yourself be helped, eh?" 

The young missionary nodded miserably. 

A minute or so later, Nabalungi returned with Elder McKinley in tow. The redhead looked frazzled, his full-white outfit only accentuating his red and flushed his face was. He looked shocked when he saw Kevin, quickly kneeling next to Gotswana. 

"Elder Price, where on Heavenly Father's go-" he began to say, but Kevin cut him off. 

"Cut the religious shit," he snapped, glaring at his district leader, who looked scandalized. "Oh, don't give me  _that_!" 

He tried to roll over on his side, but that ended in an embarrassingly audible scream of pain, so he decided to stay on his back, gazing up at the pale, washed-out blue sky, with tears running down his face and a book still up his ass. He knew he should probably tell Gotswana about it, but the funny thing is, he didn't want to. 

"-vin?  Kevin!?" 

He was brought back to reality by Elder McKinley screaming his name and gently slapping his face. He shot him a scared, confused look. 

"Hey, buddy," Connor- that's right, he knew his first name and he was damn well going to use it- said softly. "Think you mighta passed out on us for a minute there."

He jolted as he realised that Gotswana was no longer by his head, but instead was feeling along his ribs in an attempt to determine the extent of the damage. Immediately, he yelped, scrambling backwards until he was in Connor's lap. There, he managed to pull himself into a sitting position and promptly buried his face in Connor's shoulder, shaking a little and sobbing quietly. 

"Can- can I touch you?" Connor asked. Kevin nodded, relishing the comforting arm that was put around his shoulders, the thumb that rubbed gentle circles into his shoulder blade. "Can you tell me what happened? You don't have to, but Gotswana needs to know how to help you." 

"No, it's okay, I'll tell you," Kevin hiccuped, taking a deep breath as he sat up as much as he could, wiping his nose. "Well, um... after you all went to help Arnold convert all the Africans, I decided to go to the General's camp to do something incredible, y'know, like you said. I was so elated that I went in there singing and dancing. I-I made him dance with me, which," he chuckled dryly, "in hindsight was not the best idea. I tried to preach to him and his men, but they weren't having it. He..." at this point, his breathing became short and uneven. "He took my book and-and-and..." 

He couldn't continue. He was trembling violently, his breathing more like gasping now. Connor took Kevin's shaking hands in his, forcing the dark-haired man to look at him. 

"Hey, c'mon, you're alright," he said soothingly. Kevin nodded along. "What did he do with the book?" 

"He shoved it," Kevin managed to choke out, "u-up there." 

The other four got the gist pretty quickly. Nabalungi and Kimbay blanched, Gotswana simply shrugged as he'd seen it before, and Connor looked and felt as if he was going to throw up. 

"Is it still there?" he asked quietly. Kevin nodded, and Connor actually had to hold back a gag. "Do you know what day it is?" 

"Monday?" Kevin said, although this was more of a question than a statement as he took his hands out of Connor's, but settled into the other man's lap. Connor smiled sadly. 

"It was Monday yesterday, buddy," he replied. "You've been missing nearly 24 hours- Arnold's been practically tearing the village apart looking for you."

Kevin giggled at that, but it was hollow, more for appearances than anything. 

"Elder McKinley, can you lift him?" Gotswana asked suddenly. Connor answered by lifting Kevin up and standing, holding the slightly younger man bridal-style. The sudden change of atmosphere was too much for Kevin, and he promptly turned his head and threw up all over Connor's shoes. 

At first, Connor tried to recoil, but then he realised the more he moved, the worse this would be for Kevin, so he stopped and just stood in the mess, rubbing Kevin's back as much as he could. Whilst Kevin pre-occupied, Gotswana reached forward and rested the back of his hand on Kevin's forehead: he pulled back as if burnt. 

"We need to get some fluids into him," Gotswana said, worried. "He's burning up faster than the grasslands in July." 

Kevin had finally finished coughing up his stomach contents and he leant his head on Connor's shoulder, groaning softly to himself. Connor shook some of the vomit off his shoes, stepping out of the mess and glancing over to Gotswana. There was an unspoken agreement between the two, and they began to walk towards the village, towards Gotswana's surgery, which was really just the extension on his house with an x-ray machine that looked as if it could give you radiation poisoning, some crude medical supplies, a cold metal gurney and a shed which had been converted into a waiting room. 

"Are you in much pain?" Connor asked. Kevin whimpered in response, his grip on Connor's upper arm and shirt tightening. "It's alright, sweetie, it'll all be okay." 

Kevin's heart fluttered and he felt particularly special before remembering that Connor McKinley calls everyone sweetie. 

"You realise I can't give him any decent pain medication if he has a concussion," Gotswana piped up. 

Connor shut him up with a glare that could've killed Satan. 

888888

The clinic was strangely quiet. Normally, it was filled to the brim with people, some from three villages over, with varying degrees of injuries, illnesses and ailments, but today there was not a soul in sight. 

"The General has been terrorising all the villages in a ten-mile radius," Gotswana explained at Connor's questioning look. "People are too afraid to even leave their houses." 

Kevin had either gone to sleep or passed out- Connor was praying to Heavenly Father that it wasn't the latter- on the way through the village. Connor's arms were starting to go slightly dead, but he still held Kevin up until they got into the exam room, where he lay the brunette on the table as gently as he could. Kevin didn't even stir. 

"Will he be okay?" Connor asked quietly. Gotswana looked up from where he was donning his white coat and prepping the x-ray machine. 

"Physically, he should be fine," Gotswana replied. "Mentally?" He paused, perhaps for dramatic effect. "That might take a bit longer." 

As if to prove Gotswana's point, Kevin began to murmur urgently in his sleep. He sounded terrified, begging and pleading with somebody- the other two had a pretty good idea who. 

"No no no no, what're you doin'?" Kevin mumbled, starting to thrash around a little. "No, no, stop!" 

Then he let out an ear-piercing scream that made the other Mormon clamp his hands over his ears, wincing. Gotswana didn't seem phased, just giving the x-ray machine a good kick to get it warming up. 

"Will he need therapy?" Connor asked as he slowly released his ears once Kevin had fallen silent. 

"What do you mean?" Gotswana said, genuinely curious. 

"Well... when something traumatising happens, it can change a person's mind, so they could get depressed, or even," Connor had to swallow a lump in his throat, "or even try to kill themselves, so they go and talk to someone who can help them with this." 

Gotswana seemed fascinated by this explanation. 

"So, if you were back in America, he would go to therapy?" he said; Connor nodded in confirmation. "But why?" 

"Because he could potentially spiral and cause harm to himself or others," Connor replied. 

"You sound like you swallowed a textbook." 

"Eh, the mission centre gets boring sometimes." 

"I still don't understand," Gotswana said. Connor tilted his head in confusion. "How does this help someone?" 

"A therapist can get someone to open up," the District Leader explained. Gotswana thought about this for a moment before saying, 

"I think you'd make a good therapist." 

He said the word  _therapist_ experimentally, rolling it around his mouth as if he was tasting a particularly fine wine. Connor blushed. 

"Thank you," he murmured. 

The moment was broken when the x-ray machine let out a low beep, indicating it was ready to use. Gotswana went to move towards Kevin with a hospital gown, but he was cut off by Connor. 

"Wake him up and let him decide if he needs help, because trust me, it won't be pretty if he wakes up in the middle of you changing him after what's just happened and all," he said. 

Gotswana agreed, but he didn't seem too convinced. 

It was agreed at once that it was to be Connor who awoke the sleeping boy, as the redhead was distinctive enough to be recognised immediately, and, if in a sleepy haze, Gotswana could be too easily mistook for the General. 

The vomit still clung to Connor's shoes and the bottom of his pants' leg was beginning to smell, which wasn't helped by the hot Ugandan sun. Connor slipped the shoes off and traded his white pants for a pair of papery scrubs which, if he were honest, we're a bit of a relief in the heat. His clothes were handed to him in a plastic bag. 

They couldn't delay it any longer. The x-ray machine kept making disturbing whining noises, and Gotswana off-handedly mentioning the possibility of it blowing up didn't help Connor's nerves. The district leader moved towards Kevin, kneeling by the boy's head. 

"Kev?  he murmured, resisting the urge to stroke the younger's hair. "C'mon, sweetie, you've gotta get up." 

"Don't wanna," Kevin mumbled, not really awake yet. It took Connor back to when he used to get his brothers and sisters up for school. He missed them dearly. He missed his mother, too. His father? Maybe not so much. 

"Sweetie, you've got to get changed and just have this one x-ray and then I promise you can go back to sleep for a bit." 

"Why?" Kevin asked plainatively, opening one eye. He looked at the gown in Connor's hand, and something seemed to click. "Hang on... when did we get to Gotswana's? Why are you wearing half-scrubs?  _What's happening?"_

"Calm down, Kev," Connor said, chuckling a little. "You fell asleep on the way here and you threw up on me, remember? It was starting to smell. And I just need you to change into this," he held up the gown, "okay? Then we can get you in a more comfortable position. How does that sound?" 

Kevin smiled weakly at him, sweeping some of his hair away from his forehead. He coukd still feel the book moving around inside him, however, and the moment he tried to move it sent a spike of white-hot pain all the way up his spine. He winced involuntarily, his eyes dropping to the floor. That must've took a lot of time- and a lot of money- to make, especially with manpower alone...

No, he was deflecting. He couldn't deflect any longer. He reached out for the gown, his hand only trembling a little. 

"Could you, um, please leave?" he asked, his voice shaky. Connor glanced over to Gotswana and the two nodded. 

"We'll be just outside the door," Connor said. "Shout if you need us." 

The door closed. 

Ever since he was young, Kevin had always liked solitude, preferring his own company to the company of others. Sure, he could put on a winning smile and dazzle all the old dears down at the church, but he would always need a good lie-down afterwards. The Africans had almost broken him with their large congregation and deafening F U to Heavenly Father and the sparkly-pink-vest-wearing people he had to live with for two years nearly sent him off the edge. Bathroom breaks were quickly becoming little moments of escape, so the fact tt he could be alone, in a room, on his own for five whole minutes was almost unbelievable. 

Slowly, he pulled himself up so he was in a sitting position leaning against the wall, but in such a way that he was sat on his side, as so not to aggravate his wounds. He unbuttoned his shirt in a very methodical manner, the same way he must have done a thousand times before, slipping it off and folding in neatly, placing it next to him. For once he was thankful for the temple garments as he slowly unbuckled his trousers and took them off, folding them next to his shirt. He sat there for a couple of minutes, just thinking, before quietly removing his temple garments and putting on the gown over his boxers. 

"Sweetie, are you alright in there?" Connor's anxious voice drifted in through the door. Kevin started, realising he'd been daydreaming. "You've been a while." 

"I'm ready now," he replied, not shouting or anything, knowing the door as thin enough for the two to hear. Sure enough, Connor's head peeked round the door, grinning at him. His grin dropped when he saw Kevin's expression, which was twisted in pain. 

"Sweetie, do you feel okay?" Connor asked, coming into the room and gently running a finger across Kevin's hand. "You look like you're in a lot of pain." 

"I'm okay," Kevin replied quietly. "I'll just be happy when this damn book is outta me." 

"Well, we can do that," Gotswana said, coming forward. "This is kind of a weird request, but you need to kneel down with your was sticking in the air and your head resting on the railing of the gurney." 

"Are you trying to mess with me?" Kevin asked, giving the African a weird look. 

"Honestly, this is the best way. It will relieve some of the pain and the x-rays will be clearer." 

Unconvinced, Kevin nodded anyway, letting Connor and only Connor help him. By the time he was in the position Gotswana wanted him in, he was almost sobbing, but he blinked back the tears and set his jaw. 

"Let's get started, shall we?" 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. This is gonna get another chapter at some point, I'm just not sure when. I don't know.


End file.
